Oh, the Sick Pleasure
by ChocolateRaspberry
Summary: "A" has pushed all the girls to their breaking point. A collection of one-shots in which each girl is on the road of self-destruction and finding true happiness. Rated T/ maybe M... Warning: Self-Abuse, Murder, Suicide, a lot of Gore. This is nothing for weak stomachs!


**Heyyyyyy, I'm back with a new story... again... I'm sorry, but my computer is completely spastic and keeps on deleting this strory...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pretty Little Liars, if I did Emily and Noel would be dating (They are such a freakin cute couple. I doing a fic on them, be sure to check it out)**

**PS: I'm so sorry for always re-publishing this story, it's just it somehow keeps deleting itself...**

**Warning: Self-Abuse, Torture, Murder, Suicide, Gore...**

**Timeline: "A" pushed Spencer to her breaking point and Toby being "A" was the last straw.**

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"Spence, whats wrong?", Emily shouted in panic. "Speak to us", Aria started to shake Spencers body violently. "Are you sick, do you need a doctor", Hanna cried, "Is this about A?". Spencer shook her head. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it again.

Lately "A" had been especially cruel to Spencer.

"Spencer", Aria whispered and stopped shaking her. The tiny brunette stepped away from her friend and all she saw was a broken person. Spencer was lying in a corner on the floor. She had her knees pulled into her chest and her arms wrapped around them securely. Her face was void of emotion and her eyes… Aria shuddered.

Those were the eyes of crazy person.

Those were the eyes desperate person. Those were the eyes of a suffering person.

Those were the eyes of a dead person.

"Spencer" she whispered again, tears stinging in her eyes "What have you become?" Hanna and Emily stepped back too, looking at the broken brunette. They all remained quiet. Emily stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her friend "It's Toby isn't it?" Spencers eyes glazed with tears. They ran down her face. She didn't sob, she didn't shake. Hanna embraced Spencer too and shushed her. "He doesn't love me", Spencer chocked out, "He never loved me" The other three couldn't do anything except to rock her back and forth. Aria tried "I'm sure he loved you at some point." Spencers started crying even harder. Aria looked around helplessly. Emily came to her rescue "Of course he loved you at some point. We all saw the way he looked at you" "Please go", Spencer whispered. "Why" Hanna cried. "You might just make me hope again" They left without another word, Spencer just lay there on the floor.

Eventually she stood up, she could really need a coffee. As she was reaching for the coffeepowder she spotted the kitchen knifes, just standing the shining in the light, mocking her.

How easy would it be to slid her wrists. Just a tiny flick with the blade and her suffering would be forever ended. Spencer grabbed the knife. It felt heavy in her hand. She admired its beauty. The big blade. The long wooden handle. She admired how much power this knife had and a sudden understanding for murderers dawned upon her. How good would it feel to stick this knife into someone else, listening to them scream and beg for mercy. She shuddered at how good it would feel to slaughter someone with a knife, to press the knife into a body over and over again. How good would it feel to cover yourself in the blood of an innocent victim. How good would it feel to be splattered with foreign blood. She imagined pushing the knife into a living human with full force, blugening them to death. Spencer loved the feeling of power.

Oh, the sick pleasure.

Gingerly she pressed the blade against her wrist. Nothing happened. She applied more pressure. The blade entered her skin. Warm crimson exited. Spencer closed her eyes and sighed at how good it felt. She brought the blade to another spot on her arm and applied even more pressure. Small droplets of blood fell onto the brown tiles of the kitchen. Spencer sighed loudly. She caught the blood with her finger and brought it to her mouth.

Oh, the delicious, metallic taste.

She brought her arm to her face. Her velvet tounge quickly flicked onto the wound. She dragged her tounge over the wound. It burned and she loved it. It felt good. Too good.

She had another great idea.

Quickly she rushed up into her bathroom. She broke the blade of her razor. The sharp edges glinted at her. She glided it over her arm and soon enough blood came pouring out. She threw her head back and smiled. She laughed. In the first time in weeks she felt so… relieved, free.

The next day she went to school with a smile. Her friends looked at her surprised. Spencer just smiled, a big toothy grin. It wasn't the forced smile of a suffering girl, it was a real smile of a happy girl.

The breaks she spent in the bathroom just enjoying the feeling of the small little razor blades gliding across her pale skin. She loved the feeling of warm blood running down her wrist, she loved the little sting she felt when she pushed the blade into her skin. She simply loved the pain. The pain made her feel like she could live through all the bullshit life threw at her and come out head held high. It was a great feeling. She never wanted to go back to the way things were.

When nobody watched shed quickly nick herself with the blade. It was only a small wound, but deep enough for blood to come out. Seeing the crimson made her feel a kind of satisfaction, like she was in control of her body, like nobody else could even influence her in any way. She could control when and where she wanted to bleed. She could control how deep the wound would get.

Spencer loved the control.

When she was in class, she would often reach into her purse, her hand enclosing around a cool, sharp object. When people asked her about her palms, she smiled and shrugged it off.

When she was in the bath, shed playfully carve artworks onto her stomach. She simply adored the burning sensation when soap touched her open wounds, it felt too good. She spent hours in the bathtub. In the end the water was cold and deep red.

When she was bored shed play little games of tic-tac-toe on her thigh. She loved how she could keep score by looking at the thin, pale lined running along her thighs.

Scars were also her guilty pleasure. Looking at the scars and remembering how they were made caused her pleasure of the best kind. She also found pleasure in dragging her nails across her skin. She felt most ecstacic when she drew blood.

Yes, life was good for Spencer Hastings.

She was free and happy.

But soon she got quite bored. The joy from hurting herself had faded quite a bit…

She started with "accidentally" running into people and forcefully pushing them against walls. The 'thud' from when the head hit the wall, sent chills up and down Spencers spine, sometimes she even had to suppress a moan. When the person, upon having their head make contact with a wall , cried out in pain, Spencers eyes rolled to the back of her head and her knees got soft. And when there was even the slightest trace on blood on the wall she let out and elicit moan and her vision blurred.

Then came the "accidentally" running into people and cutting them with everyday sharp object, for example scissors that just casually peeked out from a textbook or a needle that just casually penetrated the fabric of a sowing kit. Spencer paid careful attention that everytime the sharp object pierced the skin and drew blood. Just seeing the thin trail of crimson slowly making its way down another persons body made Spencer absolutely orgasmic. And when the other persons blood somehow ended up on her own body, for example through Spencer apologizing and "accidentally" brushing her hand across the open wound, Spencer almost fainted. The best was when she herself had an open wound and her own blood mixed with the foreign blood. Spencer never knew you could feel that good and still be alive.

Then came the dressing in black and attacking innocent people when night fell. At first she only used a knife as weapon, carving open the others body, but only to a level that they bled an excessive amount, but not to the level they needed to be hospitalized. She usually pressed the knife against the pulse points, letting the knife tear through the first layer of flesh.

She loved seeing the fear in her victims eyes.

Spencer always paid careful attention to the depth of the wounds, she had to make sure they left a scar, so they could forever be reminded of incident.

Then Spencer realized how much she loved the moans of pain. She combined carving and punching in her attacks. She loved punching the nose, the sickening "crack" sound of the breaking nose, the scream of true agony that followed. Spencer also liked breaking bones.

Finally the Kung Fu classes she had taken up until last year paid off.

Soon all her victims had to be hospitalized due to excessive blood loss and averagely 2-3 broken bones.

In one case the victim died, Spencer didn't mean to kill him, his cries were so pathetic she just couldn't help herself, she had to keep hurting him.

And oh, Spencer knew how to hurt men, how to rob them of their dignity.

She had slowly pulled down his pants and underwear. It was quite ironic, there she was hurting him and still he almost immediately got an erection once she took his penis into her hand. She softly stroked it, letting out a dark chuckle as an idea hit her.

She took her knife. She took one of his balls into her hand. Softly her thumb grazed over it and then she pressed the knife to it, with a lot of force. The man screamed so loud Spencer had to forcefully shuff and dirty rag into his mouth. The man passed out in pain, no more cries. Spencer got bored, just quickly finished what she started and then left.

Yes, she had literally castrated the man. He died of blood loss.

Some of Spencers female victims could never bear children anymore in their entire life.

Those were the lucky ones.

With some women Spencer had gone that far that even before the ambulance arrived they had died, lying in their on blood. That wasn't her fault though, they just screamed so deliciously when Spencer thrust the knife up their vagina and twisted and turned and pushed. Once she even managed to insert the entire blade plus handle into the woman, that was one of her greatest accomplishments, the only bad thing was she couldn't get the knife out anymore, it was too deep, she only thanked god that she wore gloves.

One time Spencer even helped a woman give birth. Spencer acted really professional, the only downside to her work was that the woman was only 5 month along in her pregnancy. The police found the woman lying in puddle of her own blood and a deformed something next to her, after tests they found out that the deformed something was the baby. Spencer had performed a C-Section on her, she had carved open the womans stomach, and then with the knife she had impaled the baby and brought it out to meet fresh air.

There was another man who could never ever see again. For some reason Spencer couldn't remember, she had a lighter with her, if she already brought it why not use it. She had forced his eye open with the thumb and index finger of her left and and clutching the lighter in her right hand she had brought it to his. Click... a flame shot out of the lighter, it licked the surface of the mans eye. The flame danced across the white of his eye and his pupil. Screams of absolute agony.

Those deaths hadn't actually been Spencers intention, they hadn't been deliberate, they were only a result of torture. In the newspaper they were called murders, but Spencer didn't consider them real murders, she also didn't consider herself truly recovered yet.

It was the evening of a cool November day when Spencer considered herself truly recovered.

The fear in is eyes, his weak begs for mercy. Spencer smiled at the memory. The way he shook with fear. The way he begged her not to kill him. The way she thrust the knife into his chest.

She had been following that man for quite a while now. She didn't know his name or who he was. She only knew when he came off work and every day she'd follow him. She couldn't help but notice how deserted the dark alley, which he passed every day, was.

But that specififcNovember evening wasn't like all her normal evenings of stalking, this time she packed a knife with a clear mission in mind. She had thought about it for a long time and had a perfect plan.

That November evening she didn't stalk him, she sat down in the dark alley and winced like she was in great pain. After agonizing ten minutes the man came storming into the alley shouting the usual are 'you alright's and 'do you need help's. Spencer hid in the shadow and when the man walked past her she pounced.

She was soon straddling his hips. The man cried out helplessly and looked at Spencer without a clue. Only when she pulled the knife understanding dawned. He asked the 'Why's and 'who are you's, but Spencer didn't bother to answer. His eyes were filled with fear and that made Spencer all the more happy. When she raised the knife he started screaming hysterically. Spencer couldn't have him shouting around disturbing her inner calm. She smashed her fist into his face, knocking out to front teeth in the process.

Silence.

Spencer smiled.

So this is how "A" felt like when she was torturing Spencer. This is how you felt when you are the cause of fear and death. Spencer couldn't blame "A" anymore.

Spencer rammed the knife into his chest, pulled it out and rammed again, pulled it out and rammed again.

Oh my god, the pleasure! It was absolutely orgasmic, better than sex, better than anything Spencer had ever done before. She moaned loudly, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, her entire vision blurring. This was great!

Suddenly, just like that, "A" was forgiven.

That was what she called her first real murder. This had been intentional.

The next day she found out his name. She read it in a newspaper. Henry Bufford, married and father of three children. Spencer didn't feel any remorse, just joy.

After Henry she killed many more, always proceeding the same way. Stalking then killing, the occasional torture…

At least she was creative, she tried to kill her victims in as many ways as possible:

Pouring oil over them and then throwing a lit match at them, letting them become a human torch. She always waited till the flames died down and only bones and chunks of burned flesh were left. Shed take the left bones and snap them in halve.

Cutting of every limb singularly, she started with the finger, all five finger off, the next cut was at the wrist, then at the elbow, then at the shoulder, you get the point. Sometimes she even forced her victims to eat their own limbs, letting them tear their own flesh and swallow it.

She also forced them to bite off their own tongue and swallow it. Sometimes she forced them to bite off their own fingers, all ten of them, then the toes.

Sigh, humans are willing to do so much just to keep living, too bad they didn't know Spencer would have killed them with or without them gnawing of their own limbs and eating them.

She also sometimes forked the victims eye out, just one so the other one could see what was going on, and force fed it to them. Or the victim had to stick their own finger in their eye and get it out by themselves.

It all depended on Spencers mood really. Somedays she felt generous and somedays not so much.

One day when she was just sitting there enjoying life, when her phone rang signaling the arrival of a text: "I know what you did. Either you do what I say or I'll give the pictures to the police. –A."

Spencer laughed hysterically. That bitch actually thought she could threaten her. No. Not when Spencer had that much power. She grabbed a knife. Bitch actually thought she could intimidate her. She brought the knife to her wrist and pressed hard. Blood came pouring out and Spencer laughed maniacly. She pressed it deeper into the wound.

So much blood, so much joy.

She took the knife and slid her other wrist.

It was ironic, really. Here she was life slowly fading away, but she felt more alive than ever. She collapsed onto the floor. "Bitch, I'm strong and I'm happy."

Spencer felt the need to thank "A" one more time. Without her pushing Spencer to the brink like she had Spencer would never have felt all the happiness. While lying on the floor life slowly seeping out of her she felt the happiest she ever felt in her life.

Oh, the sick pleasure!

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**Ok, maybe I need to see a psychiatrist, but anyway... Hope you like the story!**

**Please REVIEW!**

**Next up in my story is (drumroll please...) HANNA!**

**Love ya all!**

**Auf Wiedersehen, bis bald!**


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